


Of skis, saunas and shri-tal situations

by Zikul



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 23:05:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17692847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zikul/pseuds/Zikul
Summary: Julian takes Garak to have a bit of wintery fun, which turns into a debate on serious topics, as is customary.





	Of skis, saunas and shri-tal situations

**Author's Note:**

> Tw for a very brief discourse into what the Cardassian Union would consider rape (no details of anything particular, just intellectual discussion of the definition).

“ _This_ is your idea of fun?” Garak was hugging himself with a squint into the endless whiteness. Julian stole a gaze of him, mostly for his own amusement.

“If it wasn’t before, it’s certainly now, seeing you like that,” he adjusted the skiing goggles over his nose, which drew a snort from the Cardassian.

“This is colder than Breen. I should know, I’ve _been_ there,” he told factually and shuddered some more, “if I stay, I might get hypothermia.”

“How fortunate, then, that you should be here with a doctor,” Julian teased, “but if you want, I can adjust the temperature, and we can enjoy the snow in midsummer heat.”

“That _would_ be preferable,” the tailor agreed, and Julian served the computer some orders, that served to melt the Cardassian’s rough edges soon enough, “Ah, much better – but, you’re seriously expecting me to... put planks on my feet?” he pointed to Julian’s planks.

“They’re skis. You can use them if you want, or you can get a sledge,” he gesticulated to the little shed that held several of the kind, “we’re going downhill, so either will be very fine.”

“Only the children are taking sledges,” Garak observed with suspicion as the crowd around them went about their business.

“Well, it’s either that, or you put skis on your feet,” Julian decided swiftly and rubbed his hands together, before grabbing his ski poles, “last one down is a rotten fish!” he exclaimed and went for it, leaving Garak behind with no choice but to grab himself a sledge, since it would take too long to get some planks under his feet.

 

First he ran, then he threw the wooden thing down – not that he trusted it entirely to be able to carry his weight – and then he threw himself ontop of it. It did carry him. With the wind smacking his face, and his whitening knuckles holding onto the strange vehicle he now travelled on top, Garak couldn’t help but to let out a series of dismayed half-screams, which ended abruptly as the sledge veered and ended him up in a pile of snow, some of which went in under the neckline of his shirt. The snow, unfortunately for Garak, was still damn cold.

 

Swearing profusely in Kardasi, the tailor got up and brushed himself off well in time to see that Julian had reached the end of the slope, looking up at him with that infuriatingly smug smile on his face. Garak glared down at him, hair undone like the wings of a raptor.

“I much prefered the spy program,” he ranted as he made his way down – on foot – and shook his shirt to get rid of the snow. It was so cold that it felt like it was _burning_ his neckscales off.

“I thought you hated the spy program,” Julian remarked with a bit of surprise.

“I do,” Garak said, letting him figure the rest, “don’t you have some more civilized program – ack, this is really impossible to get rid off,” he rubbed at his own neck, and jolted a bit when Julian laid his hands on there to help him in his efforts, “Don’t be disorderly as well,” he said, but not in a way that indicated that he was strongly opposed to the act.

“The best part of skiing isn’t the activity itself,” Julian told as he went closer, “it’s the cabin you get to stay in, the warm tea, the scones, the gently scrambled eggs... and the sauna,” he slipped, which was a word that Garak recognized very well.

“You have saunas?” he asked with pleasant surprise.

“The temperature probably doesn’t go as high as in your Cardassian ones, but yes, we do have them,” Julian bent down to discard his skis, and removed his goggles, “and I’m sure you’ll appreciate the detour.”

“You know, that might just be a correct assumption,” Garak phrased awkwardly, blinking fast, “or at least, my neck will,” he developed further, trying to shake some moist off of his hand.

 

“It’s made of _wood_?” Garak noted with renewed scepsis as the both of them entered the sauna, “That doesn’t seem safe to me.”

“Wood is a common building material back on earth,” Julian told him as he wrapped his towel around his hips and had a seat, gesticulating for his equally as semi-nude companion to sit next to him.

“Is it now?” Garak took the seat, then moved up to the top row, where it was a bit warmer, “Does the temperature go any higher?”

“It can,” Julian answered coyly, “well, at least if you’re in Finland.”

“In what?”

“It’s a country,” Julian craned his head backwards to look at the tailor, “they’ve got an ancient culture centered around saunas.”

“Ah, how Cardassian of them,” said Garak, because he wasn’t sure what else he could offer.

“Of course, they also have rumors about hot tempers and alcohol consumption...”

“Sounds familiar,” Garak frowned and twiddled his thumbs, “Say, doctor, now that we’re both in here and half-naked...”

“Yes?” Julian turned sidewise, so he wouldn’t have to crane his neck anymore. He wasn’t exactly expecting it to turn sexual, but if it did, he wouldn’t mind.

“Would you like to try a real Cardassian sauna in return?” that grin was unmistakable, and not very unalike that of Dukat, when he thought he was about to win.

“Garak, those run so hot I’d burn off the skin of my ass by just sitting down,” the answer gained him a chuckle.

“Oh, I could turn down the temperature for you, but I’m just telling you, our saunas are a lot more cozy and atmospheric. There’s often rocks to lay on, and people... indulge, on those rocks, doctor...” ah, so it was turning into something about sex, after all.

“You want me to indulge you?” Julian asked and crawled up one step in the stair like seat, leaning his chin against Garak’s knee, “Shameless of you...” he ran a hand up the other’s leg, in under the towel, following the faint trail of scales. Garak gasped, his eyes closing half-way.

“Did you know that in Cardassian holo-novels, all characters are always romance-able?” he told without much context. Julian stayed his hand.

“Really?” he didn’t believe it. Cardassia was such a controlling state, allowing something _that_ frivolous seemed unlikely.

“Yes, it’s true. Not all of them include sex, mind, but there was this one program – a friend in my class had smuggled it inside, and because we had a holosuit for educational purposes – mostly military training – we were able to interact with it. It was an enigma tale, and it had this scene with you meeting up with a suspicious man in his sauna. You’re supposed to get roughed up by him, because it turns out that he was very much guilty of a crime, _but_ if you played it right, you could also end up having sex with him,” Garak implied, “and he was very domineering.”

“Ah,” Julian closed his mouth, “you know, I don’t believe that story at all, but I _do_ believe you probably had fantasies like that,” he made a slanted smile, “did you?” Garak’s neck turned dark.

“You know, I have no reason to lie about a teenager’s experiences,” he lectured, although it was clear by the bulge under his towel that he was thinking something else.

“Do you want that fantasy to become real or not?” Julian asked and clawed at the scales, “It could be arranged...”

“Oh, I’m afraid you wouldn’t be nearly suspicious enough...” the Cardassian provoked in what Julian now knew was a flirtatious move.

“Challenging fate can be very dangerous, Mister Garak,” he slid his hand even further into the towel, nearing the at the sleek and strong desire that hid there, as obvious as Garak’s lies.

“I’ve got extensive training in facing the dangerous. You’ll find me a difficult opponent,” Garak dared him, but his eyes were gleaming with enthusiasm.

“So, we’re going to need a program of a Cardassian sauna,” Julian concluded with a kiss to Garak’s knee, “guess _one_ of us will have to pop down to Quarks or... we could save that for another time,” he stroke Garak’s thigh.

“We could,” the Cardassian agreed and gulped, “after all, you might want to gain an experience of the topic matter to compare to, once we get there,” Julian huffed amusedly through the nose.

“And what other experience of this kind do _you_ already have under your belt, Garak?” he pried cheekily.

“Sauna courtship or holoprogram scenery?” Garak asked equally as cheekily.

“Whichever is the more interesting,” the doctor answered and withdrew, sliding down the steps to grab the bucket near the hot stones, fishing a ladle from it to throw on them. The steam tasted like the wood around them.

“Since my experience with holographic pastimes is heavily restricted due to my previous occupation,” Garak hummed away behind him, “I’d say that the former is more interesting by nature, but I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you still: The Obsidian Order has very little in common with dating services,” Julian, who had gotten a rather amusing image in his head, snickered.

“Now that raises an important question,” he said as he turned around, sweat pearling over his face and back, “do you have those kind of things in Cardassia? Dating services?” Garak pursed his lips with a nasal hum, tapping his nose with a couple of fingers.

“Yes and no,” he concluded at last, and allowed the doctor to take a seat on the step just below him, chin back on his knee, “there’s the State breeding program -”

“- what a straightforward name,” Julian couldn’t help interrupting.

“It is what it is,” his Cardassian friend shrugged, “it has very little to do with love, and very much to do with genetics. While it’s true that we delve a great deal into genetic enhancements, those procedures are costly and, quite frankly, if they can be avoided by wise breeding practices, it’s all the better. But not everyone get to be in the program,” he clarified, and Julian raised an eyebrow. The unethical aspect of this thing was rather blatant, but intriguing in matter of culture, so he let Garak go on undisturbed, for now, “Fertile females who are genetically and intellectually interesting, are automatically recruited into the system the day they turn thirty in the event that they are still unenjoined at this point. Males are typically recruited in their fifties or early sixties, most of them have long, prestigious careers behind them – which explains why they never enjoined in the first place. It’s more reputable for them to be in the program, than it is for the women, so the State is a lot more picky about them than their female counterparts. Then, the candidates are matched based on intelligence, affinities and genetic compatibility.”

“And what does that entail?” Julian couldn’t help but to ask, “Genetic compatibility?”

“Oh, you’re the doctor, I’m sure you could make something up,” Garak waved his hand dismissively, “Anyway, when a match is made, the couple are brought together, enjoined by an Archon, and given a mating schedule.”

“What, so you force people to do those things?” Julian blurted, at which Garak stared at him wide eyed.

“Certainly not, doctor! We’re not barbarians!” he held up his palms in front of him, “Everyone who is recruited into the program have given their consent. To be chosen is considered a privilege, you’re guaranteed to end up in a healthy, secure and fertile relationship, the future of your children will be ensured – and if none of these things appeal to you, at least you’ll live with the pride of having done your duty – as would any Cardassian,” he finished with a sweet smile, that Julian didn’t for a second believe. Garak, too, was likely not so fine with that kind of thing. If it was true at all.

“And so, if you were on Cardassia now, would you be in that program?” he couldn’t help but to pry, which dampened Garak’s smile a bit.

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t be old enough,” he answered evasively.

“Really?” Julian lifted his eyebrows, “I thought -”

“- doctor, doesn’t your language have some idiom about not asking people their age?”

“Yes. But only for ladies.”

“Segregating by gender. How old fashioned of you,” Garak snipped with a stubborn headshake.

“What I don’t understand, Garak,” Julian shuffled closer and laid his hands in Garak’s lap as well, “is how you can defend this kind of system? I mean, sure, consenting to be in a program might look good on paper, but it’s inevitable that people get matched up with people they can’t stand, what then?”

“Then they learn to be fit to appreciate each other over time,” Garak answered with an annoyed wrinkle on his forehead, “love matures over time, you can’t fault people of wise age for distrusting _infatuation_ as a guiding force, do you? That would be sentimental and stupid all at the same time – no, we Cardassians are strategists, relationships mean a great deal of vulnerability to us. It’s important that it’s done right, and as safely as possible. The program is one of the most efficient way to achieve that,” he leaned back against the warm planks behind him.

“We used to have similar cultures on earth, long ago,” Julian said at last, “but as a species, we’ve moved away from it, to a more free way of life.”

“Have you considered, my dear, that perhaps you view it this way _because_ of your dominant culture of freedom? If the other cultures had instead set the norm, you would have been more likely to appreciate the concept for what it is: A safe and sound way to provide your citizens with what they need: A functional family. And on Cardassia, Family is everything,” Garak licked his lips, “Judging from the stories you’ve made me read, I’m afraid I can’t really say I understand why you’d think your way is superior – just look at Romeo and Juliet. They _died_ because they decided to act on a whim and further a relationship that was downright dangerous,” he waved one hand.

“There are just as many stories about arranged marriages ending badly,” Julian countered, but Garak would have none of it.

“So, are you telling me that on earth, there is no such thing as divorce?”

“Garak,” Julian frowned at him, “I know where you’re going with this, and -”

“I’ll have you know that there’s _no_ divorce at all amongst those who are enjoined courtesy to the breeding program,” the Cardassian interjected.

“Of course there’s not,” Julian answered a bit hotly, “if it’s an order by the State, isn’t it also _illegal_ to go against it?” To that Garak had no answer, “So you’re doomed to _deal with it_ and spend a lifetime with a partner who, who knows, maybe they’re a violent, manipulative narcissist -”

“Do we _have_ to talk about Dukat?” Julian lost his trail to wide eyed blinking, then let out a laughter and shook his head, “But, my dear, to dispel your concerns I can tell you this:” Garak fluttered his eyelashes at him, “there is no such thing as spousal abuse on Cardassia. Survival and family are the most important things in Cardassian culture, treating a spouse with anything less than respect would be... a terrible crime, for which there are severe consequences. So you see, with this system, the very worst thing that could feasibly happen is that you end up matched with someone you find _boring_ , and that is quite frankly all there is to it.”

“Ha,” said Julian and stabbed a finger against Garak’s knee, “implying that being _forced to copulate_ with someone you don’t desire isn’t a form of rape.” Garak burst out in a pained, offended groan, eyes wide with emotion as he looked down at his company.

“There are other ways to procreate than sex, my dear doctor, you if anyone should know – isn’t it your field of expertise?” he gesticulated with his hand, “A great many couples use at-home-insemination to further their family. You see, enjoinment _doesn’t have_ to be romantic nor sexual, so long as it provides functionality and safety for everyone involved. Rape, my dear, is something that all of Cardassia abhors.”

“Really?” Julian perked up, “Tell that to the Bajorans, I’m _sure_ you’ll walk away from such a conversation with your nose intact.” Garak’s shoulders slumped.

“Those were regrettable circumstances, and abnormally so. You shouldn’t judge an entire people based on the action of the few,” he tried, but Julian huffed through the nose.

“And who to judge by, if not the representatives? What _else_ do you expect the rest of us to judge you by, but what you display outwards?” Julian moved away a little, and Garak blew a sigh through his nose.

“Judge us by the decision the Detapa Council made, to withdraw from Bajor. That decision was truly made by the voice of the many, the voice of the civilians of the state, who by far outnumber the military. Julian,” he reached a hand after his friend, realizing too late that this argument was a little bit less sweet than had been intended.

“Didn’t they base that decision off of _their own_ losses?” the doctor deflected both the hand and the defense.

“You truly think _a thousand million_ civilians experienced personal losses from the occupation of _one_ planet?” Garak questioned with a quirked eyeridge, “The State has its truths, but sometimes other truths seep in, and most Cardassians want to remain in the ideal that they are good, benevolent people. So when irrefutable proof was produced that there was a conflict, which had been prompted by the military’s misbehavior, came up, it made people painfully aware of what they were allowing to happen. And they contacted their representatives. Who pushed the agenda to withdraw from Bajor – of course the Detapa Council had to make up a reason that fit alongside State Truth to motivate it, they couldn’t very well say that they wanted us to stop being cruel to the Bajorans, because State Truth will tell you that cruelty never occurred. My dear,” Garak slid down in the stairs to sit next to Julian, “don’t be angry at me.”

“I’m not angry _at you_ , Garak,” Julian snapped without looking at him, “It’s just, you’re so seduced by your own culture that you can’t look at it critically.”

“I just did, though, didn’t I?” the tailor defended, now it was his turn to be genuinely disturbed.

“You’re a romantic. _You_ want the Cardassian people to be, I don’t know, good and benevolent? But Bajor is hardly the first world that you conquered. Every large empire is large because it expanded. And there were always other cultures already there. Don’t you see? Withdrawing from Bajor is the anomaly, not the violence that was at first enacted towards it,” Julian looked into those blue eyes, seeing the whirlpool of intelligence there, buried so deep under propaganda that grabbing onto it was like holding water.

“Who are you to put the entire Cardassian people at trial, doctor?” the tailor asked at last, and Julian could tell that there was seething anger under that statement.

“Why does it have to be a trial?” he countered, laying a hand on Garak’s, soothed by the fact that the other didn’t withdraw, “I’m a doctor, I diagnose illnesses and diseases, I don’t enact trials. And above all, I seek to cure what ails my patient.”

“And there we go,” Garak countered with a sudden smile, holding the doctor’s hand more firmly in his own, “you, too, got the mentality of a colonialist. You might call the Federation any flowery word you wish, but in the end... you view any other order than your own as diseased, and you see yourself as the strapping hero who is out here in the wilderness, seeking to educate the brutes and primitives who dare live and breathe by other ideals. Doesn’t the Vulcan idiom, _infinite diversity in infinite combinations_ , say something to you? Is there not room for both our cultures to exist?” he stroke the doctor’s thumb, “Neither of our worlds are free from pain and suffering, and we both do what we have to survive, to achieve safety.”

“One man’s freedom ends where another’s begins,” Julian countered.

“That is a device from _your_ culture, doctor,” Garak looked down at their hands and smirked, “In Cardassia, it’s the State before the Self. Sacrifice is seen as noble. Do you not realize the irony in your objections to us – if you truly want to embrace diversity, you must also embrace what you perceive as cruelty in other cultures.”

“Is it _really_ that important to you to cling to things that are harmful to your own people?” Julian tried to get eye contact with Garak.

“Yes,” he said quietly, “yes, it is.”

“Why?”

“Because it can’t be helped that that’s how you see it,” the tailor lifted his chin, “Honestly doctor, where’s the harm in creating a family out of functionality rather than infatuation, other than perhaps in your definition of ethics?” he smiled sweetly, “You believe in freedom so much, that people here end up alone. You never speak of your own family, Jadzia, when I see her, never speak of hers, either – and you have all of these fleeting romances, but nothing really sticks. But there comes a time, doctor, when independence is easily trumped by the need for companionship. And we Cardassians, we’d rather have a friend for a spouse, than no one at all. Freedom is a small price to pay for the inner peace we feel when we’re together with our kin. And therein, I believe our differences lay. We value the group higher than the need to be an individual, because in the end, when you lay down awaiting shri-tal... there’s nothing left but the people around you. You’ll be alive in their hearts, and they’ll carry a part of you into the future.” The sadness arraying from the tailor stood in contrast, and Julian’s mouth went a bit dry.

“You’re afraid of dying alone,” he mumbled quietly, and when there was no answer, he leaned against the other’s shoulder, “don’t be. I’ll be there.”

 


End file.
